


Strawberry Jam

by theicescholar



Category: Mob City, The Hoarder (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Kink, Consent Play, Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Discussion Of Murder, Discussion of Violence, Dubious Consent Fantasy, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff, Imagined Character Death, Kink Negotiation, Knife Play, M/M, Marking, Modern AU, Safer Sex, So much talking, Talking, Vore mention, communication is the real kink here, fantasies, imagined blood drinking, imagined blood play, imagined gore, imagined wound fucking, jokes about necrophilia, safe sane and wholly theoretical, spanking mention, switchy relationship, tentacle mention, toppy bottom, train mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10636419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theicescholar/pseuds/theicescholar
Summary: “What’s the most fucked up thing you’ve ever wanted to do to me?” he asks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags! While everything depicted here is part of a fantasy, this is definitely not for everyone. 
> 
> Inspired by a post by cinder1013, I wanted to try writing consentacles. Which led to the idea of lovers' sharing questionable fantasies, which led to 'how do I consent blood and gore?' The end result is red and sticky but still a very sweet and consensual PWP. 
> 
> Huge thanks to kurikoer for encouragement, speedy beta, and advice.

Ned wakes up with Vince curled around him. He sighs a little, snuggling back into the warmth.

He’s impressed that they had managed to make it to bed at all.

Two weeks they hadn’t seen each other. Vince did that clever thing he does with his tongue and Ned lost it, slamming him against a kitchen wall, kisses turning desperate. They wound up grinding against each other on the floor, still mostly clothed, until they came, Ned’s teeth leaving a mark on Vince’s collarbone.

They had stumbled to bed, stripping and falling curled up together.

Ned’s skin is slightly tacky, and he likes it, the messy reminders of sweat and spit and come, the sharp, musky scent of the two of them.

Fuck, but he loves how Vince’s skin smells, especially like this: Vince smells like Ned and it sends a possessive thrill through him.

Vince stirs behind him, pressing a kiss to Ned’s bare shoulder. He wraps his arms around Ned.

Ned run a finger across a bite mark on Vince’s shoulder and a filthy idea occurs to him.

“What’s the most fucked up thing you’ve ever wanted to do to me?” he asks.

“Hmm?” Vince sleepily nuzzles the back of Ned’s neck.

“Tell me something sick, something really fucked up, that you want to do to me.” Ned leans back into the touch.

 “Like what?” His voice is rough with sleep, already low with something else.

Ned turns to kiss him, a little bit of teeth and he’s ready to go, like they didn’t just get off on his kitchen floor. Ned hasn’t wanted anyone like this for a long, long time.

Ned runs his hands down Vince’s back, strokes a narrow hip. “Just something you’ve never told me before, something really sick and messy that gets you off. You know what I like,” he punctuates his words with a kiss.

He likes being told fucked up things when he gets off, and Vince generally obliges him; it works well for both. 

Ned gets a little distracted by the things Vince can do with his tongue, but he’s a man with a plan.

 “C’mon I tell you these things all the time. I told you the one with the squid,” Ned reminds him, biting down on his shoulder, lightly at first and then increasing the pressure when Vince says,

“Tentacle fantasies aren’t that uncommon.”

Ned releases the abused skin to reply, “Being eaten alive in the process kinda is.”

Vince huffs a laugh.

He makes a thoughtful sound, absently licking his lower lip. “Um. I’m just.”

Ned has to lean forward and lick it for him, biting lightly.

He pulls back enough to murmur against Vince’s mouth: “I told you about that one where I have you chained up in my kitchen,” Ned reminds him. “Naked on the kitchen floor, remember? All your cop pals come over and have a go,” another kiss, sharp teeth on his bottom lip.

Vince shudders. Oh yeah, he remembers that.

“Ok, ok,” he relents.

“I’m just trying to think how . . .  sometimes. Sometimes I think about that one knife,” Vince says. He kisses Ned’s jaw, his throat, “that nasty one that looks like you can skin an animal with it,” Vince says

“It’s dull, it’s useless for any kind of cutting,” Ned interjects. They rarely bring knives in the bedroom. Even when they do, it’s a tease, a threat; they never ever break the skin.

“Yeesss,” Vince draws out the word, “but I could sharpen it. You wouldn’t know.”

“Oh?,” Ned’s breath catches at the thought.

He briefly wonders what it would be like to put it into practice rather than just talking about it. Vince wielding a scalpel with a fresh blade, latex gloves against Ned’s sternum, Ned’s skin cool from disinfectant. It’s so sterile compared to his imagination, Ned isn’t sure he wants to.

He straddles Vince, wanting to watch his face. Vince doesn’t always like admitting that he gets off on this too: on blood and violence, even when it gets them both hot.

Ned loves that Vince trusts him with this, once he gets past his initial embarrassment. Vince had never explored his sadistic side before meeting Ned, and Ned gets to enjoy the process.

He leans down and kisses the older man, encouraging.

“I would cuff you, make you think I’m just going to tease you with it, just to scare you a little,” Vince says.

“And,” Ned prompts.

“I’d use it on your mouth,” Vince presses a thumb against Ned’s lips. Ned sucks the digit inside his mouth.

“Just the tiniest cut, just enough to let you know how sharp it is,” he continues and Ned sucks harder.

He’s starting to get hard again.

 “I’d put a gag in, so no one can hear you, so I’m the only one who can hear you trying to scream,” Vince says. His voice is low and threatening and it does the filthiest things to Ned.

Ned bites down on Vince’s thumb, hard enough that he’s going to leave a mark. It earns him a sharp grin.

“Your mouth would keep bleeding, if I shoved that red one between your lips,” Vince’s spit-slick thumb is tracing Ned’s lips now. His brown eyes are heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’d look so pretty, with blood dripping down your chin,” Vince continues, “I’d wait for that moment, wait for the look in your eyes when you figure out just how much trouble you’re in, that I’m really going to _hurt_ you.”

Ned kisses him hard. It’s all teeth and tongue, Ned biting his lower lip when he pulls away to breathe.

“Then what would you do?” He’s breathing hard. He wants it.

“No sense wasting all this skin,” Vince says. He trails long fingers across Ned’s chest, neat lines across his pecs, a nipple, mapping where the blade would bite down.

“Just shallow little cuts, just enough to watch you bleed.” He sounds almost dreamy.

“Fuck,” Ned breathes, thinking of that clever tongue, lapping up his blood, messy and obscene.

“Would you lick it? Push your tongue in and open me up?” Ned asks, shuddering at the dark thrill of his blood in Vince’s mouth, the thought of Vince tasting him, “Your mouth . . .”

“Just a little slice, just enough to see what’s inside,” two fingers pressing firmly down at a spot just beneath his ribs, tracing where the wound would be.

“Fuck. Can you get hard again?” Ned asks urgently. He reaches down and strokes Vince, hopeful. “I want you to fuck me while you’re telling me this.”

It makes him pant, almost dizzy with it: the thought of Vince hurting him, making him bleed, making Ned beg for it to stop. Being completely helpless. God, he wants it.

A good hard fuck will have to do.

Vince sucks in a breath, shuts his eyes. It’s gratifying how quickly he responds to Ned’s touch.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, ready,” Vince says, pulling away to rummage in the nightstand.

He returns with lube, a glove and a condom.

Ned takes the packet from his hand and rolls the condom on for Vince, impatient.

He slicks Vince up. Ned will never get tired of watching Vince’s face when Ned does this: the way his eyes always fall shut, how he bites his lip.

Ned reluctantly pulls away. He liberally slicks himself, not bothering to stretch himself; he wants it now, just like this.

He’s torn between wanting to lie on his back and watch Vince’s face, and being on his hands and knees so Vince can fuck him senseless.

He likes making Vince look him in the eye and that decides it for him: Ned rolls on his back and urges Vince between his thighs.

 “Just push in, I want it now,” Ned demands.

“Easy,” Vince retrieves the bottle of lube and pumps lube on his gloved fingers.

“Vince,” Ned protests.

“It won’t take long,” he’s slowly pressing a slick, cool finger inside of Ned.

 “It’s hard to take your malevolent intentions seriously when you do this,” Ned complains mildly.

“Mmhmm,” Vince agrees.

“What ah, what would you do next?” Ned asks.

“There would be so much blood, just from that little slice, all that blood dripping down your stomach, such a mess.” Vince says, taking his time.

 “You’ve got all these soft, vulnerable parts down,” he trails his left hand down Ned’s belly, “here.”

“No bone, nothing to protect you,” Vince says. 

Vince is pressing the tip another finger inside and Ned’s breath hitches.

“Nothing to keep your insides,” the digit pushing in the rest of the way, punctuating the movement with “inside of you.”  

Ned moans a little, so good like this. He doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to be three steps ahead of everyone else.

He’s sweat and sensation, body lit up where Vince touches him, Vince’s taste in his mouth, Vince’s long fingers stretching him, the hard heat between his thighs.

 “Ok, yeah good,” Ned insists.

Vince removes his fingers and disposes of the glove.

If Vince isn’t inside of him in the next ten seconds, there _will_ be blood.

When he returns, Vince grips Ned’s hips and presses the tip of his cock against Ned’s hole.

“C’mon,” Ned urges. He wraps his legs around Vince’s hips. “Tell me more.”

“What,” he moans, “what would you do next?”

Goddamn tease, Ned wants him inside now, wants it rough and hard.

But Vince is a bastard so he pauses and looks Ned in eye.

“D’you think you would still be screaming? How long would you try to scream if I cut you open? I could slide my fingers in, one, two, stretching the wound open. Just to see what it looks like.”

“Scream myself hoarse, with your fingers inside me,” Ned gasps.

“You’re so hard, me telling you this,” Vince wraps his fingers around Ned’s cock.

Ned can only moan.

“All that blood, so hot and slick on my fingers. I wonder what it’d feel like, your body probably trying to close, protect itself a little,” Vince sounds thoughtful. His eyes are so dark, hungry.

He’s slowly pushing into Ned, the stretch of his cock inside Ned’s ass makes Ned close his eyes.

They open abruptly when he realises: “Oh god, you’re going to,” Ned gulps hard.

“Well, I’ve had your other holes, might as well get my cock wet,” Vince purrs, “I’d have to make the hole bigger of course.” He finally, finally begins to thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ me,” Ned demands.

“Once you’re done screaming, I’d shove my cock inside you. There would be so much blood, pushing in to fuck your guts, using you,” Vince rocks his hips, slow thrusts so Ned has time to get used to it. It’s so much to take, a sweet-sharp burn.

“Harder, fuck I need,” Ned trails off, stupid with sensation. Ned mindlessly digs blunt nails in the sweat-slick skin of Vince’s back.

Vince leans down to bite and tease a hot slick tongue across Ned’s lower lip.

“What do you think it would sound like? My cock in your guts. You’d try to get away, but you’d have to lay there and take it,” Vince continues, voice catching.

‘It would be excruciating,’ Ned thinks dazedly. The damage it would do, to have someone fuck your insides.

“A once in a lifetime experience,” Ned cracks.

Vince chokes a little, snickering, his rhythm stuttering.

He recovers quickly: “You’d probably start up again, crying and trying to scream. But you wouldn’t be able to do a thing, nothing besides whimper and drool all over yourself. I’d fuck you like that, until you stopped trying to do anything but take it.”

“Would you come inside me like that?” Ned asks, arching up, moaning a little.

“My come in your guts, bet you’d like that, even as you were begging me to stop.” Vince relents and picks up the pace.

“Fuck, like that, blood and your come,” Ned stutters off when Vince starts fucking him properly.

“No, I don’t wanna come like that,” Vince moans. He ups the ante: “I, I won’t stop there. I’ll use the knife on your throat,” he growls.

 Vince balances on one hand so he can drag the blade of his hand across Ned’s throat. It leaves a line of sweat behind. “I’ll slit your throat.”

Ned makes a needy sound.

Vince swallows hard. “I’ll come in your throat,” Vince says.

“Oh God,” Ned’s eyes widen, awed.

Vince looks almost feverish, face flushed and chest slick with sweat. Ned swears he could come just from the look in his eyes.

“Jesus, that’s sick,” Ned enthuses. “Let me turn over, I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it all week.”

Vince pulls out and Ned rolls on his hands and knees, needing it _now_.

Vince thrusts roughly inside of him, and Ned revels in it.

“I’d fuck your guts until I was close, until I couldn’t wait anymore, and then cut your throat,” Vince rasps.

 “I’d choke to death,” Ned pants out. He can imagine it; his last moments full of Vince, nothing but pure animal terror, a wet, bloody toy for his lover’s cock. It’s so sick and it would be perfect.

Vince shudders, adjusts his grip on Ned’s hips, raising them. The angle is just right.

“Oh, oh fuck _there_ ,” Ned moans.

Vince leans down and licks a hot stripe up Ned’s nape. He bites down suddenly, the sting of teeth sharp enough to make Ned cry out. There’s going to be a mark there later, Ned can feel it.

The release of Vince’s teeth pulls a choked noise out of Ned.

“You’ll choke on your blood,” Vince continues mercilessly. “The last thing you’ll taste, unh, my come in your mouth,” he’s slamming into Ned now.  

“Close, fuck, Vince, please, I’m so close,” he moans.

Ned balances as best he can on one hand and frantically strokes himself. “So fucking good,” he mutters.  

 “I’ll time it just right so I can  see you,” Vince pants, his thighs are shaking. “I’ll watch you, fuck. See you—

“Ah fuck, fuck, do it, I want you to—

He’s coming, making noise, his fingers scrabbling at the sheets.

Vince is slamming into him and Ned just keeps coming. It’s nearly too much, but he wants more, wants it to hurt, usemepleasepleaseplease. He turns his head and bites the skin he can reach: bites down hard on Vince’s bicep.

Vince gives a choked scream and comes.

Ned collapses, panting, little noises keep escaping his mouth.

He shivers pleasantly. Fuck. Unless it has something to do with Vince’s dick or his mouth, Ned never wants to move again.

He thinks Vince is asleep until he quietly says Ned’s name.

“I think you broke me,” Ned manages to wave.

Vince huffs a laugh but Ned figures he’s probably worried he’s gone too far.

Ned gathers his remaining brain cells and manages, “Next time I’m sucking you off, you need to tell me all about that, because _fuck_.”

Vince does laugh at this. He sits up to dispose of the condom, rubbing at the bite mark forming on his bicep.

Ned grins, pleased. He wants to make Vince remember this well into the week. He stretches and gives a contented sigh.

“You’d want to come before I—“

“Don’t be sick, I’m not fucking a corpse,” Vince interrupts and Ned cracks up.

“No sense wasting a perfectly good body,” Ned argues cheerfully, gesturing to his naked form.

Vince sniggers.  He shakes his head, amused. He grabs an extra blanket and tosses it over the wet spot.

Ned shifts a little, he’s sticky with sweat and traces of lube but too pleasantly fucked out to care.

Vince kisses him, slow and gentle now. Ned sighs against his mouth, deepening the kiss, sleepy and sated.

Ned pulls Vince into his arms and snuggles close, kisses his neck. Traces a finger across the marks on Vince’s chest.

“Wanna give you more bruises,” Ned murmurs.

“Yeah,” Vince sighs a little, content. “You should use the paddle. I want something that lasts.”

Vince nuzzles him a little, wordlessly asking to be petted.

Ned gently runs his fingers through Vince’s fine hair, lightly scraping his nails against his scalp.

“You want the belt?” Ned asks.

“That thing _hurts_ ,” Vince protests.

“I know, that’s why I brought it up,” Ned replies, smug.

“You’re a bastard,” his voice is sincere without any real heat.

“You wanted marks. And that ass of yours,” Ned cups the body part in question, “looks so good after I’ve had my fun.”

“Well yes, but you’re still a bastard,” Vince replies, amicable.

“Sleep first.”

“Mmm.”

“Then belt,” Ned says.

“You’re the worst,” Vince says agreeably, and snuggles up to Ned, ready to fall asleep.

 

 


End file.
